All I Want For Christmas
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: He crept quietly through the still-dark loft, the chill from the hardwood floor climbing into his naked toes as he tiptoed back through his office; didn't want to ruin the surprise - his Christmas gift for his wife. ThankYouTerri prompt fill.


_This story is gifted to NoOrdinaryLines - by an anonymous donor for his or her generous contribution to the ThankYouTerri campaign!_

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><p><strong>All I Want For Christmas<strong>

_a/n: Set at Christmas in season 7, post episode 7x09 (no spoilers for 7x10!)_

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><p><em>December 25, 2014<em>

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He crept quietly through the still-dark loft, the chill from the hardwood floor climbing into his naked toes as he tiptoed back through his office, avoiding the creaky floorboard that he knew was hiding next to his desk. It'd been tough enough to sneak out of bed without her noticing; he didn't want to ruin the surprise now, so near his goal. Kate was a much lighter sleeper than he was, and he had to carefully untangle their legs, slowly roll away from her, then practically slither to the edge of the bed beneath the sheet before he could swing his feet off the mattress.

The fluffy fake fur at the bottom of the pant legs tickled his ankles, the red velvet fabric of the clothing an unfamiliar sensation against his skin. He slid through the open doorway back into their bedroom, arrested by the sight before him, by the indescribable beauty of his wife sprawled out in their bed. Dark lashes feathered over her cheekbones, her hair a mess of wild curls that haloed her head, one arm drawn up and her hand curled beneath her cheek. The sleek line of her spine, her shoulder blades like wings that curved out, her torso rising and falling almost imperceptibly with each breath. He stood, couldn't help but stare, smitten all over again by his wife, by the miracle of having her like this, every day, in his life.

Her lashes fluttered, eyes slowly coming open against the early morning glare that spilled hazy-grey light through the slats of the blinds, and he quickly tugged the small box behind his back. He'd wanted to don the jacket for the full effect, but abandoned the idea now that she was coming awake; instead he walked toward her side of the bed, stepping as quietly as he could. He knew she wouldn't fall back asleep now, unstoppably drawn into the day once her mind drifted toward consciousness. Often she'd curl around him though, crawl half onto his torso, one knee drawn up over his thighs while her forehead burrowed against his neck and her fingers curled at his ribcage, an unconscious hum drifting from her throat that he was certain she wasn't even aware of as she slowly woke up. It was one of his favorite moments of their days.

"Rick," she slurred, one hand seeking across the stretch of the mattress on his side of the bed as she turned over onto her back, languidly stretched in a movement that outlined her body beneath the sheets, highlighted the slopes of her breasts and the svelte stretch of her abdomen, so unconsciously alluring, so trusting yet sexy that the blood pumped through his veins, hot and languid. He sank to his haunches next to her side of the bed just as her eyes opened fully, coming to rest on him. He lifted one hand, curled his fingers into her hair, sliding a few strands off her forehead and behind her ear; lingered against the tender, sleep-warm skin of her cheek and Kate tilted her face into his palm, lips grazing the side of his hand in a lazy kiss.

She grinned sleepily as awareness crept in, curled onto her side, knees and elbows aligned with the edge of the mattress. "What are you wearing?"

"You like it?" He wiggled his head, and the hat slipped down, white fur covering one of his eyes.

Her arm rose from beneath the sheet, reaching for the Santa hat perched precariously on his large head. Her eyes, stark and bright like jade in the wintery dawn light tracked the path her fingers took as they caressed the soft red velvet fabric and the thick white fur before she pushed the Santa Claus hat properly back onto his forehead. "No white beard?" Kate winked as she trailed her fingertips down his face, scratched the line of dark morning scruff blooming along his jawbone.

"I know my wife prefers the rugged look," he wiggled his eyebrows, watched her teeth skate across her bottom lip, the way she bit against the the smirk that wanted to peek through, the one that told him he was right in his assessment. She continued her exploration, fingers dancing down the red suspenders that stretched over his chest, brushing the waistband of the red Santa pants where they met the curve of his stomach, slightly more pronounced lately from his overindulgence in Christmas cookies, not that she seemed to mind. He had wanted to don the Santa coat as well before she'd awoken for the full effect, but he had to admit that the way she caressed him through only the thin white sweater was completely worth missing out on it. Her nails scratched over his sides, eyes skating back up to his as she made him squirm and wiggle beneath her touch just where he was most ticklish, as well she knew it.

"What are you hiding?"

He smiled, felt the swell of pride inside him even at such small moments because nothing went past the stellar detecting skills of his wife and it'd never not amaze him.

"Merry Christmas," he hummed, producing the small white box he'd hidden behind his back with a flourish, holding his gift up to her. The thick red ribbon curled over the little package, still bouncing from the swift movement.

Kate rose from her thick nest of pillows and blankets, the sheet falling to pool around her waist as she reached for him, fingers curled at the back of his neck to meet his lips with hers in a languid kiss. "Merry Christmas," she whispered against his mouth, her lips tender and indulgent and everything that was perfect in his life. At last she scooted back against the headboard, tugging him up from the floor with her fist curled around one of the suspenders, and he sat on the mattress squished against her hip, facing her while her long, elegant fingers took the gift from his hand.

She took her time untying the ribbon, his heart racing harder the longer it took for her to reveal the surprise that he'd agonized over for several weeks now, raw nerves overtaking his insides like a horde of wild butterflies. At last she lifted the lid, tugged the gift from the soft velvet bedding inside.

"It's... a key?" Her eyes met his, the question written in the dark of her pupils and he flushed, kneaded his fingers through hers. But she waited him out, eyes wide and head slightly tilted; she knew there was a story yet to come.

"Remember that Brownstone you were admiring when we were at that crime scene in SoHo? The dead stockbroker a few weeks ago? The one with the 'for sale' sign?" He noticed her breathing speeding up without having to look up.

"The one with the bright blue door?" She blinked, wet her lips. He nodded.

"I saw the way you looked at it. How you took in the details, even in passing. So I checked it out. Got some information, made a few inquiries and..." He halted, stumped for words now that he was in the midst of it. Sometimes he wondered himself how he'd made it as a bestselling author when this woman could so effortlessly leave him speechless.

"It's yours, if you want it." The words spilled from his lips. "Ours, I mean."

"You..." Her fingers tightened around his, nails marking crescent shapes into his palms as she stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. "You bought us a house?"

"It's not a done deal yet," he rushed to clarify, scooting closer to curl a hand at her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin infusing his blood like a soothing balm. She was his home, no matter where they were. But-

"It's just... It made the most sense at the time, to live here; the loft's more spacious and there were several of us ... But I know you loved your apartment; I _know_ you miss your space."

Kate swallowed hard, her eyelids lowering and he was quick to draw her close, his palm cradling her cheek to make her look at him. "I get it, Kate. It took me a while, but I understand. There was so much _you_ in that place; your personality, your eclectic taste, your life and history. It was unique; it felt like you, and I love that. And the loft... Well, it's me. It's always been me, for so long it'd just been me." Too much of his and too little of hers, still; boxes of her things stored in dark places as they struggled to incorporate her eclectic possessions into the established style of his home. It needed to change. She had fascinated him from the moment she flashed her badge at him, every part of her, and he didn't want to lose a single nuance of who she was.

"But now ... I think we should have an _us_. Something that's you and me. And if you don't love this one, we won't buy it. All I did was secure the option. I hope this could be something that we both choose; a place where we can truly start married life together. A place that's us." New furniture too, maybe, and more rooms to be filled with life, should they so choose, and their things nestled together from the start.

"And this house... Kate, when I saw it..."

Her smile curled her lips, her eyes glistening with something that looked like shock and awe rolled into one. "Tell me".

He recalled the rooms as he'd seen them, ran the words through his mind that'd form the perfect imagery - how the wide open living spaces flooded with light from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the way he loved, the way the sleek lines were framed by exposed wood beams and raw, original brickwork like he knew she'd adore the moment he'd laid eyes on it. That one, wide stretch of wall where he hoped her large living room painting would find its new home, this symbol of where she came from and who she came to be. The immense built-in library with its high shelves and rolling ladder, the winding staircase with its old wooden railing and oddly checkered treads, and the enclosed courtyard with its herb beds, where moss was crawling along the brick walls, and tree branches overhung the space like a fairytale cove, the way he had this vision of Kate stretched out on the chaise with sunlight that snuck through the ceiling of leaves, kissing her skin and tickling her nose, her mind lost in a book.

But in the end, more than anything, he needed her to see it herself. To fall in love with it, form her own visions and hopes and dreams. He wanted to be with her when they explored it, wrote this next chapter of their lives together.

"It's like it's you _and_ me, Kate."

Her smile widened, her forehead sinking against his. Kate coiled herself around him, arms tightened, her soft, warm curves smudged to his body and her fist digging into his back, clenched securely around his gift - all the dreams and possibilities, the future that it entailed.

"It's perfect."

_END_

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><p><em>Prompt: "Castle makes up for not buying Beckett a present last Christmas with the perfect gift this year." - contributed by KathrynChristie. I was given some liberties with the prompt in order to set it this year (season 7). I hope the result pleases both prompter and gift-giver. Story idea inspired by the fabulous artwork of Random-Ship! (please see nic6879 dot tumblr dot com for the artwork - i.e. Castle in the Santa outfit!)<em>

_Written as a gift to 'NoOrdinaryLines', gifted by an anonymous donor for his or her generous contribution to the ThankYouTerri campaign!_

_ThankYouTerri is a fan-driven donation campaign that aims to pass on the gift of storytelling to the next generation of young writers by supporting the Young Storytellers Foundation. Please see YoungStoryTellers dot com slash ThankYouTerri for details or to make a donation, and visit ThankYouTerri dot tumblr dot com to see all the prompts and fills._


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